I dont think you saw a body being dumped.
If it wasnt a body, then what? Drugs? Weapons?
The woman wasnt going to relent, was she? The Colombian drug cartel has a pipeline to the U.S. through the Keys. Arms dealers are a dime a dozen, especially around the Gulf of Mexico.
Detective Angie Carlucci peered at him with suspicion in her eyes. Youre not a simple boat captain. Who are you?
For her own good, he couldnt reveal his identity. If she kept pushing, shed find out how dangerous things could get. Trust me, youll be safer if you pretend you didnt see anything.
No can do. Ive sworn an oath to uphold the law.
Jason shook his head with exasperation and admiration. The woman was a spitfire determined to do the right thing. He couldnt blame her. But she had no idea what kind of hornets nest shed stumbled into.
That meant it was up to Jason to keep Detective Carlucci safe.
TERRI REED
At an early age Terri Reed discovered the wonderful world of fiction and declared she would one day write a book. Now she is fulfilling that dream and enjoys writing for Steeple Hill. Her second book, A Sheltering Love, was a 2006 RITA® Award Finalist and a 2005 National Readers Choice Award Finalist. Her book Strictly Confidential, book five of the Faith at the Crossroads continuity series, took third place in the 2007 American Christian Fiction Writers Book of the Year Award, and Her Christmas Protector took third place in 2008. She is an active member of both Romance Writers of America and American Christian Fiction Writers. She resides in the Pacific Northwest with her college-sweetheart husband, two wonderful children and an array of critters. When not writing, she enjoys spending time with her family and friends, gardening and playing with her dogs.
You can write to Terri at P.O. Box 19555, Portland, OR 97280. Visit her on the Web at www.loveinspiredauthors.com, leave comments on her blog at www.ladiesofsuspense.blogspot.com or e-mail her at terrireed@sterling.net.
Covert Pursuit
Terri Reed
www.millsandboon.co.uk
MILLS & BOON
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They shall call my name, and I will hear them;
I will say, it is my people; and they shall say,
The Lord is my God.
Zechariah 13:9
Though writing is a solitary endeavor nothing is done in a vacuum. Thank you Leah, Lissa and Ruth for walking through this with me. Thank you to my editors Emily Rodmell and Tina James for believing in this story and in me.
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
PROLOGUE
January
Agent down! Immigration and Customs Enforcement Special Agent Jason Buchett yelled as he scrambled on hands and knees across the hard-packed earth of the New Mexico desert to reach his fellow agent and best friend, Garrett Smyth.
The light of the full moon revealed blood gushing from a neck wound just above the flak vest guarding Garretts chest. The well-aimed shot was meant to inflict both pain and death. A fact pounding through Jasons horrified mind as he applied pressure to the wound. Sticky, warm liquid oozed between his fingers.
All around them the exchange of gunfire rang in the night air, friendly fire from the agents advancing and enemy fire from Picards men coming from the windows and recesses of the large villa outlined by the moons glow.
Jason and Garrett were part of the team sent in to raid the elusive illegal arms dealers fortress.
And theyd been expected.
The latest intel suggested that their primary target wasnt even there. This had all been for nothing.
Come on, Garrett, dont do this to me. You gotta hang on!
Garretts tanned, hard-lined face showed pain but he managed a weak smile. Yeah, make it about you.
Not today, brother. Today its about you living. You have to live!
Jasons heart twisted. Terror throbbed in his veins. He couldnt lose his friend.
Please, Lord, spare him. Ill do anything, anything You ask!
Garrett had been Jasons anchor during the rough years of his mothers illness and death. And after Serena had broken off their engagement, Garrett had pulled Jason out of the bottle, effectively saving not only his career, but his life.
The light in Garretts blue eyes dimmed, sending fresh panic and despair roaring over Jason. Garrett!
Keep up the good fight, Garrett said, his voice warbled. Ill see you in Heaven.
Garrett, dont you die!
Garretts eyes closed and his body seemed to sigh as he went limp in Jasons arms. Death claimed him.
Jason hung his head. Tears of sorrow and rage gathered in his eyes. The burn of a building roar of anguish tore through his chest. Ignoring the risk to his own life, he threw back his head and let loose an agonizing sound until his dry throat hurt.
In a voice filled with determination and fire, he vowed, No matter how long it takes or what it costs, I will bring down Felix Picard!
The only trouble was he didnt have an ID on Picard.
He had absolutely nothing.
ONE
June
The setting sun decorated the sky over the ocean with streaks of red, gold and hints of the midnight that would soon overtake the perfect powder-blue of a summer day in Florida. Light bounced off the waters of the Gulf of Mexico and bathed Homicide Detective Angie Carluccis restless nature in soothing warmth. She didnt mind the humidity shed been warned about.
Staring out at the serene horizon, she searched for signs of the brewing storm the weatherman had predicted. There were none that she could see.
Sitting on the deck of her aunts vacation cottage a stones throw from the shelled beach of Loribel Island, she tried to unwind against the cushioned backrest of a wooden Adirondack chair and propped her feet on the railing. Inactivity made her antsy.
There wasnt even a television to veg out in front of. And no cable even if she wanted to buy a TV. Shed already tried going online. But noooo. No Internet. Not even a wireless connection she could piggyback on. At least her cell phone picked up a random signal now and again. The roaming charges were going to be murder on her phone bill.
She let out a long-suffering sigh and wiggled her red-tipped toenails, the result of her mothers insistence she have a spa day before leaving Boston on vacation.
Angie had to admit she rather liked the way the polish made her feet look. Small and dainty. So unlike how she normally felt.
Bored, she closed her eyes and breathed in deeply of the fresh salty air, tasting the brine of the ocean, savoring the feel of moisture and heat on her skin.
Come on, relax.
The problem was she didnt see any purpose in a vacation. So she worked more hours than needed, so she didnt have a social life to speak of, that didnt mean she wasnt content with her life. It was everyone around her who thought she needed to take time off.
Rest, everyone kept saying. She slept most nights just fine, thank you very much.
In the distance she heard the rumble of a motorboat. Shed watched so many boats coming and going from the marina a mile or so down the beach that she could almost picture the vessel in her head: sleek, fast and luxurious. Seemed everyone on the island had a boat of some sort.
Maybe tomorrow shed rent one. That would be fun. And active. Something sleek and fast. Yeah, real fast.
She realized she wasnt the sit-on-the-beach-and-do-nothing sort of vacationer even if she wanted to be.
The noise of the motor cut off abruptly. Angie opened her eyes. Sure enough, a slick, white twenty-five-foot craft with lots of chrome railings bobbed in the water at least a hundred yards offshore. Two white males heaved something long and black over the side of the boat.
Angies feet dropped to the deck and her heart rate kicked into high gear.
A body bag.
Those men just dumped a body into the ocean!
The engine restarted and the boat sped off.
She jumped to her feet and ran for her cell phone, praying shed have a strong enough signal to dial 911. She did. She quickly identified herself and explained the situation. The operator put her on hold.
Seriously? Angie said to the silent line.
Every instinct in her screamed for action. While keeping the phone cradled between her ear and her shoulder, she searched for her shoes. She crouched down to find one slip-on sneaker under the sofa. The other she found near the stairs leading to the loft bedroom.
From the drawer in the kitchen, she snatched her compact Glock, kangaroo holster and badge before grabbing the keys to her rental car. She left the cottage and drove in her rented convertible toward the marina. She was sure shed recognize the boat if she saw it again.
Finally, the operator returned to the line.
The chiefs on his way.
Tell him to meet me at the marina on the south side of the island.
Angie hung up and concentrated on not speeding through the peaceful streets populated with cyclists and pedestrians of all sorts.
Feeling alive for the first time since shed arrived on the island, Angie savored the rush of adrenaline pumping through her veins. This was what God meant for her to be: protector of the innocent, the righter of wrongs, the one who brought the bad guys to justice and gave the families of the dead peace.
The image of the body bag played across her mind.
Whoever was now at the bottom of the ocean deserved her attention.
She found a parking place in the small lot, then ran to the docks, her gaze seeking out the boat shed seen. The sun had completely set, but thankfully the tall, high-powered overhead lights provided plenty of illumination as she ran from one end of the dock to the other, searching for the vessel.
Frustration beat an uneven rhythm at her temple. The slick white boat wasnt moored anywhere.
The sudden sensation of being watched raised the fine hairs at the back of her neck. She jerked to a stop and slowly scanned the area for danger. Her gaze landed on a six-foot-two, mid-thirties white male, only a few feet away. He was wiping down the sides of his expensive boat. Curiosity etched in the lines of his strikingly handsome face and radiated from his blue eyes.
It probably wasnt every day he saw a woman running up and down the marina like a crazy person.
Tall, lean and unmistakably well muscled beneath a bright yellow polo shirt and ridiculously loud Bermuda shorts, he looked the quintessential yachtsman. His light brown hair was longer in the front and flopped attractively over his forehead.
Angie arched one eyebrow as a means to deter additional interest. To her chagrin, he smiled. A slow, awareness-grabbing smile that squeezed the air from her lungs.
The screech of tires broke through her momentary daze and made her snap to attention. Dismissing the too-handsome man as any sort of threat, she watched a forest-green truck with a light bar across the cabs roof and the official Loribel Island Police Department decal on the door jerk to a halt at the pathway leading from the parking lot to the docks. An older, silver-haired man stepped out and hurried down the path to her.
Angie turned her back on the good-looking boater to focus on Loribel Islands chief of police. She stuck out her hand. Chief?
Chief Decker. He shook her hand. You the one who called in a dead body?
Detective Angie Carlucci, Boston P.D., she said, and then explained the situation.
Decker frowned. So you didnt actually see the body?
I saw a body bag. If you have access to a boat I can take you to where I witnessed the dump. It was approximately a hundred yards from shore.
Youre staying at Teresa Gambinis place, right? Stroking his chin, Decker glanced at the nearly dark sky. Well, now, by the time I get one of our boats from the other end of the island itll be pitch-black out on the water. Even the coast guard wouldnt be able to get a boat out here any sooner.
And in the meantime the tide carries the body away, Angie stated as disbelief at the mans lack of concern and urgency poured through her.
Thats certainly a possibility. Well make a wide search of the area. If there is a dead body, theres nothing we can do for the person now. The morning will be soon enough.
Deep down she agreed, dusk was rapidly closing in, but it still galled her to wait. What time tomorrow?
Decker shrugged. Nine, tenish.
Great. Ill be here at nine, she said, irritated by his lackadaisical attitude. In the meantime, you could have the other marina checked for the boat I saw.
He gave her a patient smile, showing aged and crooked teeth. Yes, maam, I could do that. He took a small notepad from the breast pocket of his green uniform. Details?
She described the boat. It had three words written across the side, but I think they were in a foreign language.
Thats not much to go on. A lot of boats fit that description. If I have any questions, how can I reach you?
She rattled off her cell-phone number. But Ill see you in the morning.
Decker eyed her a long moment. I think, Detective Carlucci, you should enjoy your vacation on the island and leave the police work to us. If I have anything to tell you, Ill call.
With that he walked back to his truck and drove away. Angie stared after him.
Well, that was awfully condescending of him, a Southern-accented male voice said behind her.
She whirled around to find herself staring into the smoky-blue eyes of the yachtsman. Up close he was even more appealing. Firm features with strength of character etched in the straight line of his jaw and a confident set to his wide shoulders. Some elemental warning alerted her senses.